


Tetris Syndrome

by pocketfulofposies



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternative Cocks, Attempt at Humor, Character Study, Fantasizing, Hemipenes, MC Gender Unspecified, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Frustration, Shame, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketfulofposies/pseuds/pocketfulofposies
Summary: Levi wrestles with his Sin and his attraction to you on a particularly long, slow night.
Relationships: Leviathan & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 156





	Tetris Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> so despite the "snake dick fic" being my most popuoar fic by a landslide, i really don't like it???
> 
> i think that while levi's the easiest brother for me to write, he's the hardest to deconstruct because he's treated like a joke character most of the time, but envy's an interesting sin to me and i wanted to explore it a little more seriously, a la my belphie fic. there's also some smut because i have a spiritual illness.

The worst part about these all-night gaming sessions has to be the lull between levels when the screen flashes black and Levi can see his own tired face reflected back to him above the cutesy 8-bit character hopping along the loading progress bar. Talk about an immersion-breaker, and to add insult to injury, he looks and feels like shit. That's what he most wanted to take his mind off of—his lackluster appearance, and everything else about himself, in that particular order. His mind jumps to Belphie, who—with his dopey, sleepy smile and baby face—somehow makes eye bags _cute_ , or at least a tiny bit endearing. Levi's face is too skinny and sharp, and he thinks if he tried to smile right now with his strained, bloodshot eyes he'd look like a total creep. You would think so too, he's sure, but you probably already think that.

He wishes he did not care so much about the supposed opinions of imaginary voyeurs. Surely you do not lose sleep agonizing over such trivial things, but of course you don't—everyone _adores_ you after all. His own brothers tolerate him at best, he thinks. Even they like you better. Satan made that abundantly clear when he showed up fifteen minutes late to what was supposed to be their chess re-re-re-rematch. They'd compromised with Battleship after the preceding match got so heated it resulted in a few missing pawns and a cracked, broken board—just according to keikaku, as Levi had come to realize the odds would never swing in his favor.

"You kept me waiting forEVER," was the only greeting Levi spared to a Satan joylessly reciting the entry password on the other side of the door, the same magic words the Lord of Shadows had used to conceal his secret tower from Henry in the second volume of TSL.

"I was tasked with showing MC to the music room."

"Isn't Mammon supposed to be their tourguide or whatever? He's glued to them 25/7. I'm surprised he even let go of them for that long," Levi had replied, cracking open the door. His fingers twitched at the handle—why couldn't you have asked him for directions? You'd called him your true friend, hadn't you? Or had he just called you that over and over? It's true he doesn't get out much, but he could've still led you there, easy-peasy. Or he could've texted you a .pdf file with a map of RAD's entire layout. Wrinkling his nose like he'd bitten into a spoiled bufo egg, he carried on, "Or...ew, wait, is this some normie thing where you carry their books and link arms the whole walk? Ugh! Did you bribe Mammon to get some alone time with MC? Because if you did, I'll have you know that money's rightfully mine. That scumbag still owes me 3,500 Grimm plus loads of interest."

Satan had shouldered passed him with a weary head-shake and eased himself down into his designated chair neatly. "Don't be ridiculous. It's nothing like that. Since rumors of a ghost in the music room began circulating, Mammon won't go near it. He always gives some silly excuse or another for why he's needed on the opposite side of the campus."

"For reals? Everyone with half a brain knows that's just Belphie. He likes to nap in the cello cases."

"Everyone with half a brain," Satan had granted. No further explanation needed.

With a derisive grunt, Levi had wheeled his black-and-red gamer chair up to the other end of the board. Stealing a peek at Satan's pieces over the partition, he'd mused, "So, I'm your favorite onii-chan, right?" 

Satan had pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt recounting the various times he'd specifically asked Levi not to refer to himself as such. Levi believes he will resign himself to it eventually. "I have no particular fondness for any of you. Does it honestly make you feel better to pit yourself against _Lucifer_ and Mammon?"

"A little."

"How about you cut to the chase?"

Levi had heaved out a sigh, taking a minute to figure out what the chase even was as he snapped his pieces on the board. He decided it was some dark, nagging jealous without a clear source. It usually is. "Say MC and I were out swimming at Siren's Peak, okay? If we both went under at the same time, and you could only save one of us, who would you pick?"

"I'd watch you both drown."

"Just humor me."

Massaging his temple then, Satan evaded the question, something he'd grown annoyingly good at doing over the years. "Levi, don't you have gills in your demon form?"

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for reminding me. It's totally weird. I already know I'm the black sheep of the family. That's so not the point!" Levi'd insisted with a few needlessly theatric hand gestures. "What if I couldn't change into my demon form in time?"

"How familiar are you with the concept of Darwinism?"

He'd definitely pick you, Levi decides. He dwells on that for a while, until his mind drifts to actually taking you swimming at Siren's Peak for spring break like an anime beach episode—and more specifically, to what you'd look like in a swimsuit. The cloying thought of your skin sunkissed, hair glistening with saltwater, is certainly one that he'll be stuck on for a long time to come. It's a tantalizing enough mental image until he compares himself to you, pasty-white and about as appealing as a wet rat. You'd turn your eyes in disgust and latch onto Beel, probably—he has the best swimsuit body. He's _ripped_. Levi knows he can't even begin to compare to that. No amount of Ouija Sports and super moe anime workout videos can sculpt a six-pack, and he'd sooner die than set foot in an actual, real-life gym full of demons in much better shape than him.

It's unfair, but in his eyes, everything is, and he knows it. That unending internal monologue has grown staler by the century. Everyone's sick of hearing it, himself most of all, but it can't be silenced in his head—which also isn't fair. After a six-hour catnap, Belphie feels refreshed, ten or twelve beefy cheeseburgers can quell Beel's hunger at least for a little while, a demon as beautiful as Asmo can seduce anyone he wants to blow off some steam, Satan placates his Wrath by unleashing it on whatever hapless lesser demons slight him on a bad day, but the sin of Envy cannot be sated. He has made peace with unrest; there is no antidote. There is no deus ex machina _,_ ultimate power-up move, or climactic anime battle that can change that. After all, even in the edgiest of seinen anime, demons most usually aren't the good guys and don't get happy endings—because humans are ignorant and selfish, and seinen in particular tends to be stingy about happy endings, in his own otaku opinion. Part of the reason he's come to prefer shoujo in all its pastels and saccharine narratives. A lifetime in hell would make anyone grow weary of fire and brismtone and misery and dark, oppressive colors, and he really, really, really could go for a marathon of The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl right now to cleanse his palate. But, by some cruel twist of fate, his CrispyRoll subscription expired yesterday, and since he whaled on the Mononoke Land gacha last event he doesn't have enough Grimm to renew it until Mammon pays back what he owes, a tale as old as time.

He pretends that is why tonight has him feeling so bitter. He pretends it has nothing to do with you and your smile and how you smile so much and so bright at everyone but not the same way for him as you do for his brothers.

He takes a moment to marvel at how humans like you are not bound by sin at all. Sure, you'll live a much shorter life than him, but then you'll die and mosey off to some afterlife or another—probably the nicer one, he muses on, since you're basically the IRL version of some perfect shoujo protag and twice as unattainable to him because they don't even make figurines of you—or perhaps you'll reincarnate. Demons don't get that. He doesn't get that. He suffers from no delusions that the Celestial Realm will ever welcome him back, and immortal beings don't enter the reincarnation cycle. A crying shame, he thinks—he'd rather like to be reborn as someone else, someone handsome and powerful like Lucifer, or to dream a bit bigger, maybe as your prospective love interest. Anyone, really, as long as they're not a normie. 

Unplugging his D.D.D. from the charger, he scrolls through his contacts, notes that Mammon has read all his messages decrying his name but hasn't responded, scoffs at Lucifer threatening to suspend his phone service if he skips another class, and zeroes in on your name with a frown. Levi reclines in his swivel chair and heaves out a sigh. 

He clicks on your name, types out "good morning" and backspaces, types out "are you awake yet" and backspaces, types out "how did you sleep" and backspaces, types out "hey yo" and groans audibly before holding down the backspace key. Squeezing his eyes shut, his finger hovers over the send button for a good fifteen seconds before he settles on:

> ** Leviathan: **
> 
> Good morning.
> 
> ** Leviathan: **
> 
> Did you watch Mahou and Majokko Power Hour last week because I have a lot of feelings about the cliffhanger after the confession scene and Lucifer forbid me from texting Diavolo about it and no one else ever responds to my rants.
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Do you have a CrispyRoll subscription btw?

Only then does he realize that it is only 4:35am UWT (Underworld Time) and normies like you are still snug in bed. You'll probably see his message in an hour or two and think he's such a loser and spend your morning texting sweet nothings back-and-forth with Asmo. Maybe in that secret groupchat he's convinced you have with all of brothers except for him, you'll share screenshots and a hearty laugh at his expense. Embarrassed if not humiliated, he immediately mutes his phone and jams it in his pocket. Honestly, he'd rather chuck it across the room and change his number but he's on the family plan and no way will Lucifer let him upgrade again for a few more years after the past three phones succumbed to water damage.

He pours himself a glass of sake and drinks it down with a wince. He needs a distraction.

The best he can do is boot up some mindless RPG—but this far into an all-nighter, when the mind is most inclined to wander to places it has no business wandering to, he wishes he had the energy for something a little more focus-retentive than an imitation retro dungeon-crawler. Nevertheless, his daily quests refreshed at 3:00am, and he is nothing if not single-minded in his duties—in-game, that is to say.

Within five minutes though, a faint glow emanates from his side pocket, and he retrieves his D.D.D. more from instinct than choice. Not one, not two, but three texts from you adorn his custom Ruri-chan lockscreen, the extra cute one he commissioned where all his notifications balance atop her magic friendship staff.

> ** MC: **
> 
> LEVI <3
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> thank god you're awake
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> nvm not god sorry

He's less interested in your social faux pas than he is in the heart emoticon. With bated breath, he counts down a few seconds until he's confident enough that he can respond without looking too desperate—three-and-a-half minutes seems fair, he decides. At least—unlike Mammon—he was prescient enough to turn off his read receipts.

> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Hmm? What's up?
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> i locked myself out of my room ;;

He ponders briefly how to express the depth of his sympathy, decides on:

> ** Leviathan: **
> 
> F
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> You should try using a battering ram like Henry did to get past the Lord of Emptiness's holding cell.
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> but that didn't work :/
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> the lord of corruption captured him and he ended up having to collect the keys from the other lords anyway

He squints at his phone when he remembers you binged TSL with Mammon in preparation for your unfriendly competition, scowling at the thought of you being cute and cuddly with that moron in front of the TV while _his_ favorite media played. Mammon didn't deserve that, couldn't possibly appreciate it like he would have—and he's sure the both of you were totally squandering the opportunity to watch such great films, anyway.

> **Leviathan:**
> 
> *key fragments
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Not bad for a normie though.

Shaking his head and sobering up, he thinks about how Netherflix and chill is such a normie thing too. He shouldn't be jealous of that to begin with.

> **Leviathan:**
> 
> I'm surprised you remembered. I'm actually so proud of you right now. OMG you have no idea. There are tears in my eyes.
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Like you know those anime waterfall tears? That's me rn rotflmaooo

Eyes dry, the closest thing to a reaction he gives is a quick exhale of air through his nostrils until another bolt of anxiety strikes him. His fingers tense at the keypad, and he reminds himself to slow down, muttering some fantasy curse word under his breath. These rapid-fire texts are most certainly getting on your nerves, and he over-analyzes the "tone" you use in every text you send to reinforce this.

> **MC:**
> 
> gee thanks

That's cold.

A few minutes pass. Deflated, he's more-than-willing to turn the page on yet another failed social interaction until his phone lights up again.

> **MC:**
> 
> so can i come over?
> 
> ** MC: **
> 
> just let me sleep in your bed until breakfast. like an hour or two tops
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Umm...
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> oh
> 
> **Leviathan:**
> 
> Yeah, sorry. I don't actually have a bed in here. I know it's weird.

Predictably, Levi agonizes over the _unfairness_ of the situation. Now you'll just ask someone else—probably Belphie, he surmises, as he's the only one who might be awake at such a weird hour, and considering how handsy the seventh-born is with you, he'll be more than happy to welcome you into his bed and probably his arms too like a tropey fanfic. He can picture it now and it makes his skin crawl. Sleeping beside Sloth in the flesh surely has its benefits—you'll rest deeply and soundly, and maybe Belphie will even make sure you have pleasant dreams, if he has the energy to pretend he's sweet this morning. Envy doesn't come with any cool perks or stat buffs like that, Levi thinks. It just fuels his own inferiority complex and nothing else.

That isn't true, of course—as one of the most powerful demons in hell with sole dominion over the sea and its monsters, he's a force to be reckoned with. But some waterworks and Lotan, the seven-headed sea serpent, do little to impress you.

> **MC** :
> 
> it's fine just let me borrow one of your body pillows and a blanket or something please
> 
> **MC:**
> 
> even the floor's starting to look like a cozy place to sleep right now

* * *

"Yoohoo, Levi," you say, trying to be both quiet and heard, like a stage whisper.The third born's room is sandwiched between Mammon's and Satan's—a dangerous game, to be sure. If Mammon catches you here skulking around outside Levi's room at this hour, he'll surely cause a scene, and disturbing the Avatar of Wrath's slumber might result in casualties. You slap your palm against his bedroom door, cue the familiar sound of frantic footsteps and drawers opening and closing. The first time you heard it you had no idea what he was doing, but since then you've connected he's putting away his more risqué anime girl figurines. It's unnecessary, but far preferable to Asmo's way of doing things—he keeps his favorite sex toys in a display case as the centerpiece of his mantel in appreciation of their "artistic merit," he claims, and he will gladly direct your attention to them no matter how much willpower you concentrate into pretending not to notice.

"Hail, human traveler," Levi greets you, clearing his throat. "If you wish to enter the domain of Shadows, you must first answer three riddles. In season one of—"

" **Open the door**."

On the other side of the door, Levi deflates with a sigh and a scathing "typical" muttered under his breath, but his pact compels him. "That isn't fair," he says, but he steps out of your way and gestures inside. "How come you went through so much trouble to get to Belphie in the attic, but you can't even answer a few simple questions for me? Huh? I really dumbed them down too. Not that I think _you're_ dumb. It's just...your journey into the Otakudom has just begun. You've got a long way to go. Oh, but don't worry. Since you're a _true friend,_ I'll be with you every step of the way."

"Right, your true friend," you echo, following him inside where you're met with plastic glares of his figurines posing on the shelves. It's not very comforting. You chew on your bottom lip and lie through your teeth, "I love it when you call me that."

Levi wanders ahead and shakes a few particles of fish food into Henry's bowl, smiling down at the tank. The way your brows bump together, your taut little frown, it's all lost on him. Kneeling by his tub, he fishes out his body pillow and peels the cover off. "Since you're a guest, I'll change the dakimakura cover for you. Any waifu preferences?" he asks, holding it out to you. "Or husbandos?"

"Who've you got?"

"Too many to list off. I've got a whole drawer full of old ones I don't use anymore. Just no normie stuff like Sebastian Michaelis or Sakura Haruno. Lol." He rolls his eyes at no one in as he sifts through the dresser. "Mostly old school anime. As you know, The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl premiered in 2004, and I've stayed faithful since—obviously. Come to think of it, most of these are a little obscure these days. I doubt you'll recognize them."

You nod along and wordlessly take a generic-looking character with hentai bangs. His hands hover awkwardly as you dress the pillow, like he'd intended to do it for you but swallows his protest. It's not worth it. He watches as you toss the newly-dressed pillow back in the tub and climb inside, bundling up under his Phantom Thief blanket.

"Sorry I don't have CrispyRoll," you say, voice quiet and carried on a yawn. "But you wanted to talk about something? An anime? Magic Hour?"

His eyes light up. "You do watch Mahou and Majokko Power Hour??"

"Mm-mm," you reply. "Sorry. But you wanted to tell me about it, so I wanted to listen."

His shoulders slump a little from his seat, the light in his eyes snuffed out as soon as it shined. "Oh... You want me to bore you to sleep..." He exhales. "I'll just pull up DevilTube and play some ASMR."

"I'd rather listen to you."

"I really don't have the voice for ASMR. Too nasally. And my brothers say I talk too loud."

"Please, Levi?"

He relents, of course. He tells you everything—rambles about the "cinematography," the color palette, and the way the main character overcame her struggles with emotional vulnerability. He talks about how he relates to one of her prospective love interest's character arcs from the manga, and how he really hopes they don't butcher it when they get to that chapter, because that studio's track record is iffy, at best. He knows which guy she'll choose—he read ahead, of course—and he's made peace with it not being his "best boy." Lastly, he mentions how you should totally watch it sometime, hoping that the implicit "with me" reaches you.

You don't respond.

Levi peeps over his shoulder at you and watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. You are sleeping soundly nestled beneath his Ruri-chan themed comforter and curled up around the most enviable lump of memory foam in the world. Honestly, it's bizarre—he never imagined a person's snoring, a real three-dimensional person's snoring, could be cute—but it is. You look toasty and comfortable, and it's driving him crazy but you have something he never, ever will: content.

Honestly, he's overthinking this. It's starting to get depressing. He's sure he's just overtired, but you're occupying his bed, and he's not about to climb in there beside you. It's not like in those "and there was only one bed" fanfics people publish online, where you cuddle up to him and kiss under the sheets—you'd slap him, probably. Maybe scream. And then Lucifer would come and the thought alone sends a cold shiver down his spine.

You're a prepossessing sight, though.

Eyes closed so gently, your lips slightly parted. He entertains the reverie of kissing them, of pulling you into his lap and feeling them soft and warm and pliable against his, hearing your quiet little gasp as you draw back. Sheepishly, Levi gives you a more scrutinizing once-over. Your body squirms, a quiet, warm little _mmmn_ trilling off in your throat, and it's so cute. He wonders just how soundly you are sleeping.

"Psst. H-hey...MC?"

You do not stir.

Soundly enough, he decides.

Levi's fingers glide over the faint outline in his sweatpants before he snakes his hand in through the waistband, fingers curling around _one of_ his dicks—two. He has two. An artifact from the days of The Fall, when their forms were more monstrous and wild, back when he was a creature worthy of being called the Leviathan.

It's _weird—_ and he knows it is. And unfair, certainly, but it's not like he ever put them to much use for anything other than a lonely night, anyway. It doesn't matter. Considering the circumstances of the Fall...

He swallows the lump in his throat, thinking back. He had been an angel once too. That had been a very long time ago.

Shaking his head as if to physically dispel those memories, he strokes the shaft of his uppermost cock, feeling the both of them twitch to life beneath his grasp. Glancing to your hand, barely illuminated by the dim blue lights from within his fishtanks, he wonders how differently it would feel. Softer, he thinks. He's far too well-acquainted with his own—the distinct callouses on his thumbs from holding his controller such a way, a few papercuts here and there from handling manga.

Tightening his grip, he makes the quietest grunt, but his eyes still dart to you to ensure you haven't woken. He's nervous, hands clammy. He's pretty sure if you woke up and saw him, he'd actually die. Wander out to the middle of the ocean and never touch foot to land again. But he can't pretend the idea doesn't excite him at least a little bit—the image of your startled expression, your lips parted in a little "o," and, much to his chagrin, even your disgust would be a turn-on to him, because at least you'd be looking at him and seeing him. Wincing at the thought, Levi slathers the pre-cum leaking out of the twin heads of his cocks over his shaft, pumping at a frantic pace. He can't entirely suppress a _whine._

His hips invountarily buck up into his hand, desperate for a little more friction.

He hisses. He's close, embarrassingly close, already. Your proximity is doing something for him, he thinks. 

His dicks twitch in tandem, with twin bursts of white, sticky cum staining his pants and hand. Cursing, he reaches for the strategically-placed box of tissues in his computer desk, checking a final time to make sure you're still asleep. You are, and he heaves a sigh of relief. With his lust sated, there's the familiar profound sense of loneliness seeping in, this time laced with an extra helping of shame. Sitting up, his chair squeaks, and you still sleep undisturbed.

Levi rummages through his drawers for a fresh change of clothes, leaving you to get the rest he so-sorely needs—but he does not envy you.


End file.
